Condolence
by BenedictedToPie
Summary: Draco once swore he wouldn't succumb to the savior-tendencies of Harry Potter. Until one tragic night, the Manor bursts into flames, taking Draco's parents with it. Not only did Draco yield to Potter's aid, but to his friendship and maybe even more...? Slash. Rated for language...for now, if you know what I mean. ;)
1. Prologue

This is my first attempt at fanfiction, so let me down easy! Hope you guys like the start of this. x) Also, I'm looking for a beta, so if any of you are interested or can recommend a beta to me, I would appreciate it. Anywho, thanks for listening to my random babble and enjoy the story! ^^

* * *

It was around eight when it started. The Malfoys were sitting at the dining table, when suddenly the doorbell rang. The Malfoys all froze, knowing that something was out of the ordinary. Lucius took out his wand, and walked over to the door wearily, while Narcissa and Draco continued eating supper, but with their wands in their hands, just in case something went wrong.

After the war, all their power were stripped from them by the Ministry. Right after their name held no weight, business partners and 'friends' alike turned their backs against them, leaving to fend for themselves at the bottom ranks of the Wizarding World, humiliated and ridiculed.

The Malfoy's were well prepared, but what they weren't prepared for was the sudden hoard of Death Eaters that rushed in the split second Lucius opened the gates. The ornate front door that was decorated with the once mighty Malfoy crest was blasted open easily with a few moderately complicated spells, as without the protection of the blood wards the Ministry had banned, they were helpless. The Ministry said to them on the day that they were released from court, that for the Wizarding World's sake, the Malfoys should stay without magic and be banned from any protection except for the Ministry's, which obviously didn't do much. Of course, the Ministry just wanted to make themselves superior to the Malfoys; they didn't give a damn about their safety. They could've gone to hell and back for all they cared.

_What would the Ministry say after_ this_ massacre_? Draco thought, sending curse after curse at the oncoming hoard of people, wincing but unfaltering as he saw a nasty purple streak of light coming from a Death Eater took care of Lucius, making the older Malfoy scream torturously, and after a few seconds lie still. Narcissa tried to stand up to defend Lucius and her son, but she wasn't quick enough; Greyback lunged directly for her neck, snapping it in half, like a small, useless, brittle twig, killing her instantly. After the Death Eaters killed Narcissa and Lucius, they looked around for the youngest Malfoy. The Death Eaters couldn't find Draco anywhere, so they assumed that he was hiding somewhere deeper in the Manor. So, to get rid of evidence and kill the Malfoy heir, they burned down Malfoy Manor and left, leaving huge plumes of thick, black smoke behind. Too bad they didn't realise that Malfoy's had backup plans for their backup plans.

Draco ran, ran as fast as he had never ran before and reached the end of the staircase before finding the huge brass door he was looking for. Draco leaned on the door, opening the huge door with his body weight and when there was a crack big enough for Draco to squeeze through, he leapt into the room, turned on his heel, threw his weight on the door and closed it with a resounding bang.

Draco ran past the sections 'ABCDEFGHIJKLMN', ran back a few steps, changed course and plunged into the 'M' section. When he reached the 'Muggle' section, he was already panting. Draco's hands ran over the tomes, and this action carried the musky scent of books and dust to Draco's nose, making him want to sneeze. Ignoring the desire to sneeze, Draco rubbed his nose impatiently and turned to survey the rows of books in detail, trying to figure out which book had to be taken off the shelf to open the secret passageway leading to safety. Giving up on finding the exact book that lead to the secret passageway, he started to pull out random books from the shelves. When he was close to being knee-deep in books, a stairwell finally emerged from the fireplace.

Stumbling over the books, Draco reached for his wand and pointed it at the staircase, shouting, 'Glisseo!'

Draco slid down and after landing-quite ungainly, not that Draco would admit-at the bottom of the staircase-turned-slide, he studied his surroundings and found that there were three doors. Two were overrun with smoke and the remaining door lead to the peacock gardens. Draco sped his legs and ran out of the door, just in time, before the place he was standing previously was roaring with the beast that was smoke and fire. As soon as he was out of the Manor's apparation wards, he quickly disapparated to the only place he owned: Grimmauld Place.

As soon as he arrived at the door step of Grimmauld Place, he stumbled into the doorway. Draco stumbled down the hallway, reflexively shooting a 'Silencio' at the portrait of Aunt Walburga who started to take a deep breath to scream at the unknown intruder. Tripping over his own feet, he plopped himself down on the nearest chair, and only then, did he realize that he still had one of the library books held tightly in his hand. Draco unclamped his fingers that were gripping the book so tightly that his fingers hurt and his knuckles whitened. Draco winced and shook his hand, effectively fixing the lack of blood circulation in his hand.

Calming himself down from the past hour's high, Draco started to think about what his next step was going to be. After all, there would be a huge chance that he would be found if he stayed here, either by Death Eaters or the Ministry. As Draco was on neither side and he had cut all ties, practically having no acquaintances in the Wizarding World, Draco had to admit that he had no choice; he would need to start over… as either a Muggle or a completely new life masked with lies, deception and misleading facts. Draco sighed in fatigue and frustration, not wanting to give up so easily and go into hiding or hide who he truly was, but he came up with no other ideas.

Draco shook his head wearily and decided grudgingly that he would sleep on it. Sleep had been seducing Draco from the moment he staggered into Grimmauld Place and he was surprised that he didn't give in to the temptation earlier. Draco trudged up the stairs like an Imperio-ed person and let himself in the first room along the left of the first floor corridor. Draco was so tired that he didn't notice the unusual tidiness of the room of a house that was supposedly 'deserted' and fell straight on the cerulean covers. Draco had been so worn, that he was out before his head even fell against his pillow.

* * *

Please review below and tell me what you thought! ^^


	2. Chapter 1

Okay, guys, here's another chapter. Things have been hectic here, so yeah. I'm sorry for the long wait-if anyone was. :P And also, I hope my numerous mistakes in the chapter will encourage you guys to recommend me a beta! All mistakes are mine. :) But Harry Potter, sadly, is not. I don't usually do disclaimers, so here is the first and last disclaimer you will EVER, and I repeat, EVER, find.

Many thanks to Scarlet R Flame, Snow White and Ava-Potter gal for reviewing! And please, don't use guest, as I can't PM you and give you my thanks! :(

Scarlet R Flame: Thanks for the heads-up! I've realised it looks like a mushed up banana, so yeah. I've changed it to look a bit more presentable. x) And thanks! :D Your support means a lot to meh x)

Snow White: Thanks! The one week thing is not working. -_- As I'm really busy and stuffies, so yeah. :P But I'll try to upload as often as I can! :S

I'm sorry for that huge bit of text. Without any further ado, here is the next chapter. :3

* * *

Draco rubbed his eyes and snuggled further into the warm covers of the bed he was in. Draco didn't want to face reality, at least not yet. Lying on the bed, stock still, he thought about what happened yesterday. Thinking about the events that occurred, everything still seemed like a dream to Draco, so surreal yet so vivid at the same time. Draco lay there for a few more minutes, trying to stop the inevitable gloom of conscious. Deeming unsuccessful, Draco hoisted himself up and shuffled wearily to the bathroom. Draco had been around to Grimmauld Place so many times, that without fully opening his eyes, he knew that he was able to locate any room in the house without so much of a stutter.

When he opened his eyes to look at the sink mirror to fix his hair, his hand froze in mid-air. There were several things that were wrong in what he was seeing. First of all the toilet cover was decorated with Muggle animated characters, the drapes over the windows were yellow-ugh, who uses yellow? Also, the thing the unnerved Draco the most was the pastel purple toothbrush that was sitting inside a bright orange plastic cup. Draco, studying the scene, didn't notice the heavy footsteps that sounded on the staircase, until he heard the door handle being jostled.

In panic, Draco dead-bolted the door and leaned against the bathroom counter, then after a short moment, decided with his better judgment to mutter an advanced locking charm. Draco poised his wand ready to cast any spells on the person opposite if needed, but what Draco wasn't ready for, was when the polished ochre bathroom shattered million pieces when the person opposite shouted, 'Bombardia!'

Wood chips flew at Draco and he lifted his two hands reflexively-thank goodness he played Quidditch, or he wouldn't be quick enough-to protect himself from the wood splinters. 'Malfoy,' a cool, curt, tone sounded.

Draco, startled, looked up in direction of the voice and at that very moment, he decided to swallow at the same time he opened his mouth to talk. Draco ended up coughing like mad, bending down and clutching his stomach while none other than infamous Harry Potter stood in front of him. So right now, he was bending down, choking on his guts with the world's Saviour looking down upon him like he was an entertaining show on television.

Draco's coughing fits came one after the other, giving him a peculiar feeling of light-headedness. Potter stood there, looking at Draco's hunched form with an unreadable look on his face. After a while, Potter pointed his wand at Draco throat, and for a horrifying moment, Draco thought that Harry was going to hex him. But, no hateful curse came out of Potters lips and only a deft flick of his hand signified that he casted a spell. Draco wondered what the spell did, but shortly after, he realized that the coughs that sounded in his throat and his futile attempt to clear them had ceased.

'No thanks Potter,' Draco said, voice hoarse from the coughing; he self-consciously cleared his throat, and then berated himself for feeling self-conscious in front of Potter's scrutinizing eyes.

'You're welcome,' Seeing Draco's eyes glued to his wand wearily, Potter stored his wand in his pocket, 'what you are doing in my house?'

'This isn't your house-it's mine. Last time I checked, you weren't a Black, Potter.'

'Well, you've thought wrong. I'm not directly related to the Blacks, but Sirius is my godfather, and he left this house to me in his will. So, if you would, kindly_ get out of my house_.' Potter said calmly, as if he asked Draco about the weather.

'Oh? Well, Potter, he was _disowned. _Meaning he doesn't own the house. He can't give it to you,' Draco gestured Potter out of the bathroom, a dismissing gesture.

Potter grimaced and sneered at Draco in retaliation to the passed insult, 'Sirius Black was my godfather, Malfoy. And don't go around insulting him like that; I might accidentally pull out my wand and do something that you will regret. Besides, I never told the Ministry that I inherited the house from Sirius. The Black house is deserted; the Ministry cannot withhold a request for the house from someone who is powerful, famous and wealthy.'

'So full of yourself, eh? Too bad you're fashion sense isn't as sharp as your comebacks; you've turned the house into a dump. All the people of the Black lineage are begging you to leave, up to the extent that they would re-incarnate themselves just to tell you to piss off.'

'I meant that _Dumbledore_ was powerful and famous,' Potter frowned, 'you're just jealous, Malfoy. You should stop avoiding the topic; I asked you a question. What are you doing in my house. Did something happen? Why aren't you at home? Mummy and Daddy didn't coddle you enough?'

Potter sneered at Draco, and the person receiving the attack bit back the comment that started to float upward into his voice box and forced the sickening, vile, feeling that arose in his stomach-he didn't need any condolences, 'at least I have a '_Mummy'_ and '_Daddy'_,' Draco shot back reflexively, the words laced with sarcasm, but he bit his tongue at his own foolishness almost immediately afterwards_._ Draco pushed the morbid thoughts that corroded into his head to the back of his mind, urging himself to plunge into the present, where two cocky, full-up-to-the-brim boys were arguing about everything and nothing at the same time. How Draco wished that were true.

Potter's lips pressed itself into a thin line-a weak imitation of McGonagall, not noticing Draco's discomfort at his own retort, 'I hope you stop insulting me, or you might find a bunch of Aurors arriving here soon.'

'You started it!' Draco childishly retorted, making Potter snort derisively at him.

'You've grown so much, Draco. In the nine years that I have known you, you have aged from eleven…' Potter pretended to think hard and counted on his fingers with a look of deep contemplation, '…to three. Congratulations to you, Malfoy.'

Draco wrinkled his nose at Potter, 'you're off by eighteen years, Potter, and it's not like your maturity levels rose much either. Besides, how would you kick me out of the house, Scarhead? The house technically belongs to me as well.'

Potter smiled at Draco, the smile innocent-looking, but hiding a significant threat. Draco and Potter both knew it. Draco felt uneasy once more; no matter how much Draco wanted to deny it, Potter had matured, not only in IQ, but also self-preservation, skill at talking and most of all, he had gained tact, mostly, from Draco guess, interrogating murderers and psychopaths that were sent into the Ministry-and of course Potter would obviously end up working in the Ministry; his life was already half planned out for him, even before he attended Hogwarts. If it was the old Potter standing in front of him right now, the two would be rolling around on the floor trying to beat each other up right this second.

Potter spoke, with a lowered, tone, eyes triumphantly shimmering, look in his eyes almost reminding Draco of a stealthy, in-the-midst-of-stalking-its-prey tiger, 'I presume that you aren't in good ties with the Ministry? You can have family-Auror time at your house; isn't that great? A good time for bonding, no?'

This tied Draco back down to reality, like a rock tied to a balloon. _That_ would be _great-well, at least better than having to suffer the loss of his parents. He would spend all the time in his life having 'Family-Auror time' if he could just have his parents back._ Draco suddenly felt dizzy, and he gripped the side of the porcelain sink, trying in vain to stop his knees from buckling. Draco dry heaved into the sink a few times, before sinking onto the ground, shuddering uncontrollably. Draco shook his head trying in vain to clear the images of his parents and the faces of triumph that the Death Eaters had that bombarded his head, and he slowly sank into a foetal position, shuddering uncontrollably.

The memories wouldn't stop, all of them replaying endlessly in his head. The echoing sounds made him dizzy, and when he tried to think about other things to get his mind off those horrible memories, other bad memories invaded his head once more. Draco glanced at Potter and dully noted that Potter was gaping at him in shock. Draco ignored the fact that he was fainting in front of Harry Potter, grimly satisfied that Potter was 'concerned'-hopefully guilty about what he had done, but it was more like Potter pitied him-and let himself be swallowed wholly by the darkness that welcomed him.

* * *

Draco woke up in a wash of sheets, pale cerise this time. His sleep was surprisingly sound, and he groggily walked down the ebony spiral staircase. Draco's peaceful, at-home state was disintegrated when he saw Potter cooking. In a light maroon apron with a caricature of a bunny rabbit on it, no less.

'Gah!' Draco gaped at Potter, opening and closing his mouth like a fish.

Potter turned, now aware of Draco's presence, gestured to the plate of bacon and eggs on the table, 'Eat, Malfoy.'

Draco shot Potter an annoyed glare and plonked himself down onto the seat closest to him. He scrutinized the plate in front of him before pushing it away. Potter sighed in exasperation and pulled the plate towards him. He took a small bite from both the eggs and bacon and pushed the plate back towards Draco, 'it's not poisoned.'

None of what happened between the two of them the previous night was acknowledged and the two boys turned man sat facing each other, looking at each other with weary looks. Draco sighed and gave in to his hunger, looking away from Potter's searching eyes; even though he didn't trust Potter, he was too famished to care. Draco grudgingly ate the eggs and bacon, all the while contemplating on Potter's suspiciously kind behaviour.

Potter sighed and rubbed his face tiredly, then walked closer to Draco until he was leaning on the table corner farthest from Draco, and earnest look on face with all signs of intimidation gone, 'Malfoy, what happened to you? Why turn up here? Why aren't you at home?'

'Really, it's nothing of your concern, Potter,' Potter left a silence for him to elaborate, 'I won't interfere with your life anymore. I'll leave after breakfast,' Draco said with a flourish and he shovelled his breakfast as fast as he could.

Potter, who was exasperated at Draco's behaviour, sat down on the chair opposite, fisting cutlery in one hand with a plate balanced neatly on the other. Potter set his plate down without any sound, but the cutlery in his right hand fell to the table with an obvious clang. Potter winced, freezing for a second, before sighing and plopping himself down onto the seat opposite Draco.

Peculiarly, Draco was infuriated at the silence. He should have been grateful that Potter shut up for once. He could feel Potter's eyes on him, but no moves were made; hell, Potter wasn't even touching his own breakfast! Draco shifted uncomfortably in his seat and hearing the clinking of his cutlery was almost too loud for his ears.

Another minute of the silence and Draco could take it no longer. Looking up to say something, anything, however random, just to stop the tension flowing around them, Draco met Potter's gaze full on and opened his mouth to speak. But the fact that Potter didn't have a cool, calculating look in his eyes startled him. The look in his eyes-it was full of sympathy, and dare Draco say it, pity? He didn't want pity from anyone, much less Potter, the-oh-so-mighty-chosen-one. This fed Draco anger, and a buzzing, red anger that filled him.

'I am not your goddamn charity case!'

Draco wanted to put some distance between him and Potter, not wanting Potter to delve so deep into his personal problems. He wanted to push Potter away; none of the traumatic things that happened was any of Potter's business anyway. But Potter just had to make it his.

'Your parents, Malfoy, where are they?' The two boys who were pressured, made hard choices at terrifyingly young ages, one who made right ones, one who made wrong, stared at each other silently.

'Somewhere,' Draco gestured vaguely with his hands, breakfast in front of him cold and forgotten, his voice cracking none too slightly.

Potter looked Draco in the eyes again, green meeting silver-grey, 'your eyes…'

They both stared at each other for another agonizing moment before a word rang out and broke the silence, 'stay.'

Draco's eyes widened. The word echoed around the room again, almost pleading. Draco, overcome by his emotions, couldn't say anything. Draco only gave a slight nod of his head to indicate his agreement, ignoring his pride that was annoyingly telling him to refuse at the back of his mind. It was for the better, Draco's rational mind concluded. A few days to rest and to do some research; he wouldn't stay for long anyway. A few days and Draco would be gone. Potter wouldn't know what had hit him.

* * *

Please leave a review and tell me what you think! I really appreciate it! :)

And also, if any of you would be willing to beta this story for me I would be more than grateful-I've got a load of shitty mistakes in this. Apologies given, and hopefully accepted. -_-'


End file.
